top of page

Petrolhead Fraternity

We ride as three, Charlotte, Robert and Me

As pack leader, I drive my bright red car

Charlotte, her hybrid just behind, not far

Robert riding a cool green motorbike

brings up the rear, all gentlemanly like

We are the Petrolhead Fraternity

Driving, for what seems an eternity

Happy, when we're out, carefree, freewheeling

Wind in our faces, such a good feeling

We take corners ultra-aggressively

Spin rubber tyres, oh so impressively

So nearly there, all over, but the shout

When suddenly, Mummy's money runs out.

Mum says ‘’be good’’ we’ll return if you’d like

Next time, I bagsy the cool motorbike

1 view0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

George Orwell 1903-1950

Young man. E. A. Blair. Literary genius An uncommon flair. Each page, inspired, His soul laid bare, Dystopia pondered From his polished wooden chair. He wrote of men Who lived without a prayer, P.S. B


Rated 0 out of 5 stars.
No ratings yet

Add a rating
bottom of page